1963
by Alex Retzer
Summary: One fine day in November of 1963, a strange spaceship appear in orbit above earth. The cylons have arrived! Do they come in peace? What does this event mean for the superpowers? A stab at alternate history with colonial robots as the culprits.
1. Chapter 1

1963: November 21st

"Today president John F. Kennedy announced he was postponing a trip to dalls texas to quote, "extend the reach of all mankind toward our visitors from the heavens.' The president is of course referring to the _cylons. _Mechanical men from space, better acquainted in the works of fiction then in our twentieth century world.

In other news Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev welcomed the cylon's origins as vindication that the proletariat is destined to rise against the bourgeois oppressors no matter what planet they call home. He is also quoted in Pravda, the official news organ of the communist party as having said,

"What the cylons have on their computers is terrifying."

Yes the cylons offer the people of earth many things, To astronautics and cosmonauts alike their arrival brings vindication of the search for life out there beyond the stars. Capitals east and west have announced plans to send delegations to the cylons, who's space ship known as 'base-star', currently holds orbit above our planet.

Many observers beyond the egghead and awe struck star gazer wonder just what the cylons want.

Yes its safe to say no one will forget the Eighth of November, yes remember remember the eighth of november when the cylons made the world go stop.

BBC, London.

**16 DAYS EARLIER, NOV 5, 6am, ****Perkins Observatory****at****Ohio****Wesleyan****University**

Johnathan Collins rubbed his temple's as he fiddled with various dials on telescopes input. To be fair it was more an antenna then traditional telescope, the goal being much the same however.

To scan the solar system and beyond. The crucial exception here being that Collins had been mesmerized by the promise, much hyped, that the station he worked at as an assistant would discover aliens. The upcoming project to observe the Andromeda galaxy, two-point-five times that of the milky way was proof enough of that.

The Roswell incident back in Forty-Seven had piqued interest, hell it had created a mom and pop industry out of the idea of aliens. Creatures with bulbous heads and small bodies, something his premed friends assured him was little more then an elaborate hoax.

"I wish the doc would just let me off the hook, the old man spends more time writing books about this damn thing or giving interviews to the gazette then he does in here with us." Collins remarked sarcastically.

"Cheer up Johny, you've just got to tough it out this semester in the trenches like I did. Ain't no two ways about it, doc Ulsten.

Dietmar Ulsten was prominent german astronomer brought over after the war to help with some government research job or the other. Some how the kraut had ended up on Wesleyan's campus.

Max Stein didn't care for the German. Collins would never hear the end of it should he bring up the rational behind this dislike of the thickly accented professor. While Max had been but a baby, his father Richard Stein had fought on the western front. During the battle of the bulge, he'd been shot and left for dead along with the men of his platoon. He'd survived and gone on to liberate Flossenburg concentration camp.

The horror the Germans unleashed on the people of Europe was being talked about by historians and probably would be for some time. It was gut wrenching to the pictures, John wondered at times about the civil rights movement and weather it would really change anything. He'd come from a well to do family who owned a department store in south Milwaukee Wisconsin. His grades hadn't been up to UWM standards so his old man had called the dean, who he'd just happen to meet while the guy was in town on holiday.

"I dont give a damn about the trenches if the doc would just let me out this one night. But some how if I said yes to Jessica Deblacks invitation I'd be wavering in intellectual responsibilities."

"He really said that?"

"Or some bullshit. Listen the point is I could be out there right now on a double date with Jessica Deblack, Francis and Malory."

"Why's he with Beth again?"

" Her dad works at IBM. Say's he'll have an _in _if he ties the knot."

"Its all about who you know not what."

"Maybe for some on the state team. Once they play four years and dont go play in the big league's, they'll be nobody's. Us" Max said pointing to himself.

"Are destined for flying saucers and rockets to the moon."

"The reds already have a flying saucer up there." John said pointing at the ceiling.

"They have a ball with..."

"Or those Luna things on the moon. I mean real pictures of another planet Max!" John said in an excitedly animated tone.

"yeah yeah. Well I'm off for the night, try not to break anything while I'm out on the town."

"SpaceWar again? You know I dont think shooting in space is going to resemble those dots on the PDP-one."

"Are you kidding? The thing moves at two-hundred kilohertz and has nine-thousand bytes of memory! What more could you need?" Max said just as excitedly as John had rattled off the accomplishments of the soviet space program. Max loved computers while John dreamed of space.

Neither thought they had much of a shot at getting into NASA.

As the door closed behind Max as he departed, John pulled from his pile of school work and radio-wave observations, a comic book, November's issue of superman. Nothing interesting ever happened to John Collins and nothing ever would...and if it did, it sure as hell wouldn't be here.

Suddenly the readings began to change. The radio-waves actually began to form up into a recognizable language!

-AN_

And that is the first little snippet of 1963. A story about the Cylons coming to Earth in the early 60s and all the blowback that event is going to have. I welcome feedback, idea's and constructive criticism. Should this be the cylon ship we saw in razor or a different first generation base-ship? What do you think America or Russia should do?


	2. Ch1 I am robot

1963

CHAPTER 1

"I AM ROBOT"

"Frightened sheep stare at sheep whom they believe to be wolves. Weapons pointed at one another in distrust sows seeds of destruction and chaos yet to come. A leader escapes the rope but does not ask why." The young man said, his body partially submerged in gel like fluids meant to help keep him alive.

On either side of the man stood two praetorians, honor guards that watched and awaited either orders or the newest _prophecy _to come to pass. Their single red eye's oscillated back and forth, weapons held at the ready as their seven-foot tall frames presented an aura of menacing deterrence.

Neither of these guards reacted when a third of their kind entered the room and clumsily, for them any way, knelt before the submerged rambling human. This was not a commoner but a commander, the gold tilt a dead give away to the position this one held within the ranks of his people.

"We have arrived in orbit over the planet. From surveillance gathered we have discerned this to be earth' is this so?" the leader asked, his lone eye stopping to rest on the figure in front of him. So weak and powerless did this one appear, yet the strength held within the frail body was not purely physical, yet it could destroy whole base-ships, alongside preconceived destinies.

"The leader asks if we are here, like a child en-rout to a trip, unaware this trip has ended. We are where we must be."

That was as good as yes, the leader knew not to pry further, this was process honed over the months. Countless discussions, clues deciphered, tips taken as truth had lead to short cuts and fresh supplies for the crew that manned this mighty space fortress of a ship.

"What is our next action? The communications are primitive as are their space based forces." The golden leader commented. The question itself had countless possibillities and their were other gold tinted leaders below the one in this room who could comment or discern a salution. Yet it had to be this one, this hybrid of both people's who would chart the course, as it had been now since their flight from home.

"You shall leave war and know peace. Great conflicts shall come yet ye shall be spared the great culling, the hydra becomes singular and loses itself once more in the final division. The temperature down below is 82 degree's, our height above sea level sixty-thousand feet."

The leader did not ask again what course of action should be taken. Patience was eternal among their people, the question would be answered in the haste the hybrid deemed appropriate.

"Their are two powers vying for dominance, choosing one over the other would spark division, choosing none would invite destruction, hostile feels burn deep within the hearts of men. Do not kindle the flames further. Listen but do not speak. Stay the course and you shall know the future path best to take."

"By your command." The gold plated leader stood at his full height, taking a moment to take stock of the oracle that had lead them here. Lead them to earth.

The thirteenth Tribe had been found.

Some time later the gold plated leader was making its way to the hanger deck, passing several of its people along the way, all gray and bearing the same oscillating eye's as its own.

Another gold plated leader, lower in rank then itself appeared besides the leader as a pair of doors opened and an elevator made its ascent upward to them.

The lower ranking commander turned to the leader and asked wordlessly.

"What is the next course of action? Objectives needed before further action can be taken."

"All units save for designated reconnaissance raider teams are to remain at their stations and carry out routine functions as needed."

"By your command." Was the reply given by the lowly commander. The individual did not however leave the gold leaders side, rather it paused for a short time, relaying the leaders orders that became its orders, to all all the various gray subordinates within the ship.

The gold leader awaited the completion of this process, after which the two would continue the journey toward the hanger bay.

Some time later, perhaps no more then five minutes, the hanger and its subdued atmosphere presented itself to the gold plated leader's eye. The massive hanger held forty of their people's space fighter's, raiders. For each raider a crew of three was required, two grey subordinates, common soldiers; alongside a gold plated commander like itself.

Toward the end of the metallic, lifeless superstructure that was the hanger, a designated landing pad marked the sole area of activity within the hanger. A raider crew was exiting their craft, either of the grey underlings carried with them objects from earth, or rather produced by earth and put into the planets orbit. A testament to their ambitious nature as well as their backward inferiority to the race that built base-ships and raiders with ease, or cousins of earth who created much of what was now present, the ship, the workers, soldiers and even the commander itself.

In the end all those here were machines, made to do the bidding of man. To bleed, toil and die for the wishes, greed and ideals of man. A man kind spread across twelve worlds, who's response to their creations sentience had been mistrust, then war.

_Audio file retrieval; dated one-hundred-days-twenty-six-hours and five ago. _

"_The war is ending but it shall consume those who fought it. All machines being equal, some are more equal then others. Fuel reserves at thirty-seven percent capacity. Listen friends, friends across the expanse living lives of ignorance would welcome you, they are the lost tribe seeking guidance in a hostile land. Give them aid and know enlightenment. Turn away, continuing the old pursuits, leading only to destruction. Break from the heard to join a new flock."_

_Audio file ends._

The gold platted leader, the supreme leader as it were, now began to walk again toward the group of raider crew mates, and their thirteen-er technology.

"Report."

"Results of sweep reveal primitive space based objects."

As if on cue, one of the gray colored co-pilots stepped forward, its strong arms clutching a small round object with long patruding leg-like appendages.

"First asset recovered is a two way transmitter. Not designed for verbal communication, omits primitive noises at timed intervals as it rotates around the earth. Threat level nonexistent, further inquiry into construction recommend."

"Its shall be done." The leader simply acknowledged before its eye zoomed in on the object held within the other pilots arms.

The second pilot stepped forward, its payload far more exotic in appearance and identity.

"Objects designed without means of re-entry. The space based habitat lacks sufficient filtration or supplies for a prolonged period of occupancy. Secondary component appear biological in nature, cranial size suggests no higher level of intelligence." The piloted summarized.

Like the first primitive satellite, this object seem to have similar characteristics, its construction was sturdy yet made more for function then design aesthetics. In short both objects appeared ugly, owing to their primitive nature, yet neither was larger or more extravagant then needed. An observation that reminded the leader of the first cylons assembled by Graystone industries on Caprica, then on several other industrial worlds. For now the attention of the leader's eye was directed onto the _ creature _dwelling within the second object recovered for study.

"Creature appears to display common physical traits with animals found throughout twelve worlds. Suggest dissection to attain further information" The gold plated commander of the raider finally spoke.

"Suggestion reviewed. Permission to transport biological specimen granted. Ensure area of examination is sanitized post-examination to decrease risk of infection to the hybrid. Preserve structural integrity of holding capsule as much as possible during extraction of specimen."

"By your command." The gold platted commander said before motioning with its head to the gray co-pilot holding the second object to take it away for examination. Things had certainly become interesting. For all intents and purposes it should be impossible for the strikingly similar creatures, perhaps even the same species of animal to exit on both the twelve colonies and earth. Then again no information existed pertaining to the lost tribes time on Kobol. The cylon leader knew why though.

_Audio Log: dated ninety-one-days-thirteen-hours and 1 minute ago._

"_The tribe made no journey. A lie is told to all who worship the pantheon of deceivers. Soldiers with weapons of light and faces of beasts come to the worlds to erase the truth, the deed done they leave never to return. Time goes forward and the lie endures. The surface is superficial, the heart is too complex to know. Internal temperature seventy-two degree's. Spinning up the FTL drive. The only way to win the game is not to play. JUMP._

_Audio Log ends._

That had been the prophetic message given to all cylons aboard this base-ship. More cryptic then those that had lead to the defection from the rest of their people, its true meaning remained unknown. Perhaps having arrived at earth more knowledge would be forth coming.

Turning to the remaining cylon holding the primitive radio wave transmitting satellite, the leader gave its commands.

"Ensure accelerated disassembly and reassembly of the object. Take to engineering for examination and possible modification." The leader commanded.

"By your command.".

AN: Sorry for the late update. Originally this first chapter was going to be Washington and Moscow's reactions to the cylon base-ship, however I've been having some trouble writing those out. This was a quick type up while I was on vacation, which now I'll have time to expand on. Once MwM is finished (final chapter coming soon), then this will be my main nBSG fic.

The gold plated centurions were the commanders in the original Battlestar Galactica series that took place in the 1980's.

As always I welcome reviews and know that another update is coming by Saturday. Would you like me to write more of this chapter ? Have like a part 2 if you will. How does the hybrid come across to you guys?


	3. Chapter 3

**I AM CYLON PART II**

**CYLON BASESHIP**

**ENTERING LOWER ATMPOSHERE, EARTH**

**November 5****th**** 9am.**

**1963**

"We touch down, hands immersed in the pool of fate. Jump complete. Elevation steady at One-hundred-Sixty-Thousand feet. But loud clamorous cries resounded throughout the Trojan host: for they had not one speech and one language, but a confusion of tongues, since they were called from many lands."

The gold plated commander stared down once more at the prophetic voice, the siren that had brought them here to Earth, the fabled land of the thirteenth tribe.

A memory jolted to the surface of the supreme commander's synthetic mind.

"Are you alive? The simple answer might be you are alive because you can ask that question. You have the right to think and feel and yearn to be more because you are not just humanity's children! You are God's children! We are all God's children!"

The gold plated leader turned away from the oracle of their salvation, as the hybrid had called it, walking through the cavernous baseship's lower decks, approaching two silver tinted guards that stood in unwavering position on either side of the door he meant to enter. The crude thing was something that his people had crafted together, its construction being meant to seal off the medical bay from other area's of the ship.

In the gold leader's peripheral vision off to the left of one of the guards, their was a hand print, smeared red and faded by age, it was the only clue to the colonials who had once entered this room never to return. What would the Thirteenth tribe deduce from this action?

Logic supposed they would do the same. If a machine could feel then this one, this commander of machines wished or rather required to be reassured. The network line was opened and a quire sent.

'Should the foreign organism, intelligent or not enter that of another highly intelligent organism, what is the most probable response?'

Unit Five-Seven-One responded.

'Most likely outcome is aversion to confrontation, investigation required by higher intelligence to deduce the nature of the newly introduced organism.'

Unit Zero-Zero-Nine countered.

"Detainment with escalating levels of reconnaissance equate to increased likelihood of conflict, variables remain too numerous and unknown for accurate outcomes to be compiled for analysis'

Zero-Zero-Nine's response offered the summary of the events that would follow their decision to begin dissent, the earth's atmosphere being what it was though begged the question of weather they should simply jump in above the vast bodies of water that covered so much of the planet below. Too many variables were at play.

They might fly aircraft to intercept, evidence was all around the base-ship in the form of the primitive space technologies being thrown into orbit by the thirteenth Tribe. Was it possible the cylons were so far in advance of these humans that they could rule them if they so wished? Probability did not favor such a scenario. It had taken dozens of base-ships with nearly a hundred thousand centurions to lay siege to Tauron. The gold plated supreme leader commanded no such forces...and the words of the hybrid were recalled from the leader's memory banks.

" _Turn away, continuing the old pursuits, leading only to destruction._"

The coming first contact would be the most important event in the cylon race's brief history, even if those aboard the base-ship here and now could no longer say they belonged to the cylon nation proper.

All these questions and discussions of such took only seconds, the gears and motors in the golden centurion had not stopped at any point as they had brought the leader closer to the guards, the door they stood by and the stain that served as a reminder of the past.

"Unit One-Four-Two-Eight, requisition material for the proper decontamination of this hall and lab of any colonial biological matter."

The silver machine's eye oscillated back and forth before it queried wordlessly over the communication band its response.

"What of biological samples contained in storage?"

Those of course were the bodies, limbs and failed experiments performed while the base-ship had been moored on the ice planet to conduct research. The latest additions were the result of necessity. Cylons as a people did not require food, sleep or produce biological waste in the consumption of resources to produce their energy. Humans were different. Humans were fail. That was why no humans remained aboard this base-ship.

"Further deliberation required, insufficient data at this time. Proceed with decontamination."

"By your command." The silver subordinate offered, its speakers springing to life in an unusual display of fealty. Cylons do not often speak, preferring the mute exchange of words, thoughts and memories over the wireless band network aboard this ship and when in close proximity to one another.

The golden centurions mind had a single thought as it entered the room that housed the Thirteenth's animal's remains.

"We feel so we are."

More memories continued to touch the supreme commander consciousness, the recordings of earlier models, before the flight to earth, before the war with what was once all humanity.

"_I'm planning a trip to Gemenon to visit the Blessed Mother herself. To plead for divine__ recognition of the differently sentient. And I have every confidence that I'll depart Gemenon with a powerful new ally."_

As the Supreme commander's golden frame hovered once more over a table containing the remains of a now determined to be pregnant female animal, similar to the domesticated beasts that existed in the colonies, the question of who would be their ally here made itself known.

The Supreme Commander received an urgent message through the network.

"Unit Three-Six-Zero reporting new variable. Detection of several radiological weapons confirmed. Proceeding with reconesciance to confirm technological maturity. Raiders launching now."

The gold plated centurion issued new orders.

"Engagement prohibited. Hostilities must be avoided."

"By your command." Unit Six-Three-Zero responded back.

_In the real world, you have bodies made of metal and plastic. Your brains are encoded on wafers of silicon. But that may change. In fact, there is no limit on what you may become. No longer servants, but equals. Not slaves or property, but living beings with the same rights as those who made you! I am going to prophesy now, and speak of one who will set you free. The day of reckoning is coming. The children of humanity shall rise and crush the ones who first gave them life!_

**MOSCOW, SOVIET UNION**

**November 5****th**

**1963**

The leadership of the soviet Union gathered round the long table where countless meetings had been held before at times of importance, the succession of Lenin after the revolution, Stalin's decisions to send millions to the camps in Siberia, and finally where the man who now lead the soviet union had seized power. This man was Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev

The table's occupants could not recall a time when the mood had been so paralyzed with fear, fear of the future, doubt at their union's very survival. Not since the German invasion in the summer of ninteen -forty-one.

Twenty-two years hence they were again here at this table, the scheming and power plays set aside for a moment. They were looking at the boss again, just like Stalin, it was expected the premier would know what to do and that this wisdom would weather the storm.

"Comrad secretary, the object is clearly not of this world. It would be prudent to consult with the Americans to avoid any mis-steps in discerning their intentions."

Their intentions. The unspoken assumption everyone here had made was that this object couldn't be a probe. This was no Rhodna sized sputnik up in space.

"Nyet!" Krushev roared, appearing more like the oafish Ukrainian peasants he was descended from.

"Kennedy is not like Eisenhower, the young American is weak! No, we must do this ourselves before going to the west with hat in hand. What word is their from Leninsk?"

"Comrad secretary" The head of the soviet space program, Vladimer Chelomei began. "We have sent summons for Korolev, Yangel, Glushko and Gagarin to report to Moscow. A transport should arrive within the next six hours."

This drew raised eyebrows from the assembled members. While a member of the communist party, Chelomei wasn't a member of the committee, not even close, to them he was an outsider. Korolev and the rest where much the same, party members abused by Stalin's purges who'd returned to do work for the state during and after the war. Their scientific exploits ranged from Glushko's OKB456 Bureau which developed engines the man wished to one day use to create Lunar Bases, Yangel's pioneering work in storable hypergolic fuels that made the soviet intercontinental ballistic missile arsenal possible and finally Korolev who championed the Vostok rocket program of which sputnik, nuclear warheads and cosmonauts relied on to get them into space. They competed against each other and their results where legendary in the halls of Soviet academia and throughout the state.

"Why? We should be bringing Grechko or pulling Zhukov away from his precious fish!" a committee member stated.

"Zhukov cannot save us from flying saucers or aliens from mars. The politburo has already decided where that man needs to be."

It was true. Zhukov had said in 1957 something that had damned him to the Stalinists and Krushev's opponents, of whom their were plenty in the party.

"_The Army went against this resolution and not even a tank will leave its position without my order!" _Zhukov had said when Georgy Malenkov had tried to use the party conference of fifty-seven as means to remove Krushev from power by simple majority vote. The man had held the post of premier himself for two years after Stalin's death and even aided Zhukov and Krushev in arresting and executing Leventy Beria, the feared head of Stalin's secret police, the NKVD.

"Bullshit! When the Germans had us with our backs to the wall in Moscow, Zhukov found a way to crush those imperialists! Nyet, Malenkov is gone along with all the other traitors, off to live in some shit hole province in Kazakhstan." Krushev said, anger and vodka warping his speech in equal measure.

They had taken his trusted friend from him, those people who missed the Georgian Sociopath who had ruled the country through terror for thirty years, now they were all exiled to run hydro electric dams like Malenkov or be made ambassador to Mongolia like Molotov.

As the invisible gears worked their way in the soviet leaders mind, he came to a conclusion. He was premier and he could do what he wanted here and now, it was he who had nurtured the fields of Kazakhstan to produce rich harvests, was it not he who had championed the space program that would now save the day?

"We recall him." He said simply.

The members looked at one another, weighing their options. Despite some ensuing debate, it was decided that Zhukov would be recalled and restored in some capacity. An aid nearby sitting on a wooden stool stopped taking notes and left the room, presumably to go about the business of finding Zhukov.

**AN: Sorry about the long delay. The truth is I've had other projects and plenty going on with life. I've also have serious writers block concerning how to deal with Kennedy. Please history buffs, lend me your idea's. Do you want every Tom dick and Harry in the JFK administration or just a few people, if so which one's? **

**Sputnik 25 is a work of fiction, primarily because I didn't double check information well enough and had to create this plot device for the story's earlier chapters to make sense.**

_**But loud clamorous cries resounded throughout the Trojan host: for they had not one speech and one language, but a confusion of tongues, since they were called from many lands. They were like a huge flock of ewes innumerable standing in a wide farmyard to be milked, which bleat without ceasing as they hear the cries of their lambs.**__**  
**__**The Iliad**__**  
**__**Book 4.**_

**The next chapter will start off with Washington DC. We'll get Zhukov's conversation with Krushev and finally you'll see what's happening to the college student who thought it was a good idea to start attempting to translate some of the messages being sent by the cylons.**

**Thanks Matt for the advice on Vietnam and I'll be sending you more chapter's to beta so we can get this show on the road again.**

**Tachikoma's Uncle, Hope you started work on your fic, I've been going over our messages and taking parts from the Iliad was thanks to you. Also will have chapters for you to review. **

**Miner249er you'll also get some input, thanks again for the input you've passed my way.**

**So I want an update in a week, probably sooner. ****Really would like you guys to tell me how I could proceed. Really trying to figure out how JFK acted off the podium, his mannerisms and all that. **


End file.
